- start: i have no one to share this space with but i'm here
I'm afraid to be seen as a woman; loved as a woman. And I am not a woman but I think most of those who identify with "girlhood" will know this fear: of being wanted as a sexual object. When I say it out loud it doesn't seem so bad. When other people say it it doesn't seem so bad.
But I know it's like this: feeling unsafe in your body even when you are alone. becoming numb. lying on the floor for hours and needing to cry but you can't, your body doesn't do what you want it to, it will never really belong to you. Losing touch of reality, feeling repulsed with every sight and sound and touch that reminds you that your body is a physical thing that can and will be used. wanting to mutilate it, anything that will make you undesirable. But then again, isn't being desired by men the only thing that makes you feel worth something? you need it and you hate yourself for it. but do you even have a choice? your body isn't yours, it isn't you, it isn't anything. you're nothing. you're nothing
green grape soju tasted like cough syrup ...
I gave myself a haircut and cut off my mullet. I kind of like someone who wrote a list of songs on a blank page in my diary. Next time I see them I'm going to give them a gift.
looking in the mirror at my round face...I don't like it.
good things today--attended a midautumn festival event with 2 new friends. they're roommates; the one who's my classmate is loud and his roommate is quiet. I counted 3 white hairs on his head and shared sewage water coffee.
we went out to eat afterwards. There was a moment where I spilled broth and The quieter friend took out a cotton handkerchief and dabbed at my outstretched arm, bending to clean the hem of my skirt and shoes. it felt intimate in a way. whenever we sat together on wednesdays I'd have to lean in really close to talk and i'd feel it then, too.
Loud one asked do I consider us friends and I told them the truth which is no not yet but i would like to be.
I've been thinking about the last classmate I made friends with 3 years ago and how recently we aren't really friends anymore, we pretend we are but we seem to live in totally separate worlds...
what I remember of my father’s mother:
her gentle voice and the harsh shaanxi dialect that accompanied it, the one that all of her children shared; how she called my father like a little boy and the 我nd especially the 谁吗 that we'd imitate when answering the phone
how she favored me because she’d always wanted daughters and i’d sleep on the small hard mattress in her room. how I’d wake up in the dark of midnight to her slight figure standing over me. how she’d watch my sleeping form silently, sometimes fanning me with a 扇子，before adjusting my blanket and shuffling away.
that she liked to eat 馍 with 臭豆腐 and I could smell it from across the flat, even long after the meal had ended and the little jar had been screwed shut.
that her left arm was paralyzed and we always sat on her right. How I learned from my uncle (her eldest son) to separate the toilet paper two squares at a time and stack it for her to use. That, months later, the tissues I’d made remained untouched on the countertop, too precious to be used.
most days between 11 pm and 2 am is when I'll lie down and wait to fall asleep. 1 am and I'm wondering how it feels to wash your lover's back, gentle hands and bumps and moles and smooth skin and acne. Just to touch someone and worship.
Sometimes if I'm lucky I dream about it. I write my dreams down and so I can remember things I’ve never felt (in my dreams they feel so real). I'm lying with someone and tracing the crease of their hip as they sing softly in my ear and I say, this is my favorite part of you. I hug a person and it feels like being embraced in a cocoon, a womb. A friend and I are leaving a high school classroom and we touch the tips of our fingers together to say goodbye. Someone I’ve known since childhood steadies my arm and pierces it with a syringe when I can't do it myself and I look at them with my chest burning. I'm kissing someone in a parked car at night, and it's snowing outside but we keep each other warm. The characters who appear are usually unrecognizable strangers. but I know I love them by the way it feels to touch them. I think about the person who taught me how to love and how when things were too difficult for words she’d rest her head on my shoulder and maybe I adopted her way of loving as my own. Sooner or later Ill fall asleep or wake up. Good night.
It was our last evening in San Diego and we were driving back to the room. sam in the drivers seat, matt’s music floating from the speakers, me in the back. We were all pretty tired and I remember thinking that time passes so irreversibly and isn’t that sad? With the windows rolled down I let the wind whip across my skin and felt the fullness in my heart emptying, little by little. I will never be here with you like this again. already I'm forgetting
1. Impaired judgement 2. unwilling acceptance 3. burning bridges 4. sleep it off 5. cicada's death 6. departure from reality 7. a stranger.